It didn't take long for Tim and Damian to make their way to the rooftop of the elder brother's home. Ideally, Damian wanted to just go straight home to the Cave, but (if he were being truly honest with himself) he didn't think he could make the trip solo. After the encounter with the corpse child, he was shaking so badly that he actually fumbled his zip line before firing it off.
If Tim noticed, he didn't say a word about it. It wasn't as if he were in a much better state.
"Why is it so cold in here?" was the first thing Damian said once he and Tim had made their way from the roof into the house via one of several secret passages that had been built into the remodeled movie theater. It felt as if the temperature was hovering somewhere between forty and fifty degrees.
"The climate control's busted," Tim replied simply, sparing a brief tilt of his head towards the gutted electronics he'd been working on earlier. While Damian examined the disemboweled thermostat with a bemused expression, Tim methodically removed his belts, cape, cowl, and gloves, draping all of them over the back of the sofa in his living room. Then he braced himself against the back of the sofa himself when the lingering smell of the corpse child on his gear hit him. A wave of nausea immediately roiled his stomach. He tried his best to resist the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. Before too long, though, he was in the downstairs bathroom doing exactly that. Afterward, he just sat there on the bathroom floor, resting his feverish head against the cool ceramic wall tiles. For the first time since he returned to Gotham, he was grateful for his home's abnormal temperature fluctuations.
The sound of footsteps entering the bathroom drew Tim's attention, and he eyed the proffered glass of water with a bit of surprise. He shifted his gaze to the boy holding the glass. Was that sympathy he saw on Damian's face? Tim silently wrote off the bizarre observation as a product of delusions brought on by fever and stress before taking the water from Damian with a murmur of thanks.
Damian then took a seat on the floor in the corner of the bathroom closest to the door. Absent were elements of his own uniform, including his mask, gloves, belt, and cape. Silently he watched Tim take small, careful sips from the glass he'd given him. Once the glass was half empty and Tim looked steadier, he finally voiced the question that had been nagging at him since they got there.
"What's the connection between you and that... that girl?"
"Tokyo."
The younger boy's quizzical expression was rewarded with a brief synopsis of the case Tim had been helping Mr. Unknown with in Japan. He recounted the descent into the well and his unsettling discovery.
"The first body I found underwater was that of the girl," Tim said. "I was practically on top of it when I finally got the spare flashlight. Then, I found her mother."
Damian felt a lump rise up into his throat, but he tried to ignore it. "Murder-suicide?"
Tim shook his head. "Double murder. The mother's second husband tried to kill both of them late last autumn, right before winter set in. He dumped them both in the well to hide the bodies, and convinced her family that she'd taken her daughter and run off with another man. Unknown and I found him and brought him down right before Tam and I came home."
"Wait. What did you mean when you said 'tried to kill both of them'? You just said it was a double murder."
"The husband used blunt force trauma to try and kill them both. His wife was killed almost instantly from a blow that broke her neck. The girl... She got a blow to the skull, but the autopsy report said that wasn't the cause of death."
"Then what was?"
"Hypothermia."
It took a moment for Damian to digest that bit of information. When everything fell into place, his eyes went wide with horror. "She was still alive when he dumped her in the well?!"
Tim nodded. "Don't know for certain how long she survived down there. Even though it's the middle of summer, when I was in the well the water felt ice cold." He shook his head a little before running his fingers through his hair. "I keep telling myself that she was probably unconscious. That she just slipped away in her sleep." Clearly, though, Tim was doubtful of that theory. Timothy Drake-Wayne was a child soldier born in Gotham and trained by Bats and ninjas. Happy endings (even bittersweet endings) to things like homicide just didn't compute naturally. Unfortunately, his brain was forcibly hardwired to lean toward the worst case scenarios in situations like these.
As Damian sat there, trying to wrap his head around everything he'd just been told, a part of himself wondered at the oddness of this situation. Prior to this night, he'd never set foot in his older brother's new home in the remodeled movie theater so close to the site where his grandparents had been murdered and Batman had been born. Prior to this night, nearly every conversation between the two of them was laced with levels of hostility that ranged from "politely passive-aggressive" to "as subtle as a brick through a window". Now here he was having a sincere and serious conversation with Timothy while sitting on the floor of his bathroom.
From the other side of the bathroom, Tim chuckled wryly as he ran his hand over his face. "Good lord, this is so messed up."
"What is?"
"Everything."
The two of them said nothing more for a minute more before Damian finally broke the silence.
"I saw her at the Tower."
Tim looked at Damian in confusion. "What?"
"She was there this morning at Wayne Tower," Damian clarified. "Except she didn't look like she did tonight. This morning she looked like an ordinary little girl, and she was following you around like a shadow."
The older teenager paled. "But... I didn't see..."
"She was there." A sudden realization struck Damian. "She was there following you. She came after you tonight! She certainly seems to like you more than me. What did she say back there on the rooftop? What does she want?"
"You don't speak Japanese?"
Damian shook his head.
Tim sighed. "She told me that she didn't want to be alone." He drew a knee up and held it close to his chest, his expression troubled. "She said that she didn't want to go to heaven alone, and that she wanted me to go with her."
"But... That would mean..."
Tim turned his gaze away from Damian. Then he sighed and rose to his feet, agitation clearly visible in his body language and tone of voice. "I need to make a call."
"To whom?"
"To someone who knows how to deal with spirits, cause I certainly don't have any ghost busting equipment in my utility belt, do you?" He stalked out of the bathroom and went back into the living room. "I suppose I could call Jason Blood. He still owes me a favor."
Damian followed Tim out as the teenager went through his utility belt in search of his phone. "Wait. The immortal sorcerer owes you a favor?" he asked in disbelief.
Tim allowed himself a small, proud smile. "During my first year as Robin, one of the missions I worked with Bruce on involved helping Jason Blood with a problem he had with Klarion. The witch boy had managed to separate him from his demon, Etrigan. In the end, Jason and Etrigan were reunited, Klarion was grounded, and Jason owed both of us favors, though Bruce ended up cashing his in not too long afterwards."
"So you've been hoarding a favor for all these years? Why?" Damian looked at his Tim curiously.
"Why?" Tim paused in his search to glance back at Damian incredulously. "Because a favor from a mystic as old and powerful as Jason Blood isn't something to be spent lightly." Tim finally found his phone and looked down at it thoughtfully. "Maybe, this still isn't the right time to call in the favor..."
"Are you daft?!"
Tim shrugged. "There's no guarantee he'll know how to deal with this ghost. He's a sorcerer, not an exorcist, and her being Asian might complicate things. Eastern beliefs on spirituality are very different from Western ones. Still, there are other mystics I could call on before him. Zatanna for one. She may not be as old or as powerful as Jason, but she's very well connected. If she doesn't have a solution, she'll probably know someone who does." His mind seemingly made up, Tim tried to turn on his phone to make the call, but nothing happened.
"What's wrong?"
"My phone's dead." Tim flipped the phone over in his hand before trying the on switch again. "That's funny... I thought the battery was at least half charged."
Damian made a derisive noise and went to fetch his own phone. He was about to say something snide about his brother's negligence with his equipment when he found no response from his own phone. "Mine's dead too."
"Odd... Well, I have a landline phone. It's over here in the kitchen." Tim went to the island separating the kitchen from the living room and stopped, a bewildered look on his face. "What the hell?" He stared at the empty phone base and drummed his fingers on the counter. "I know it was here before I left." He gave an exasperated sigh. "Damian, I need your help."
"Hm?"
"I'm gonna page the handset. Could you listen for it?"
The boy rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered.
Tim pressed a button on the base. After a second, an insistent beeping could be heard in the otherwise silent house.
Both boys turned their heads upwards. It was coming from the second floor.
"How'd it get up there?" Tim wondered aloud.
"Doesn't matter. Just wait till I get up there, then page the phone again," Damian said as he ascended the stairs. Once he got to the second floor, Damian wrapped his arms about himself and rubbed his upper arms absent-mindedly. As cold as the house was downstairs, it felt a good ten degrees colder up there.
Then he heard the beeping again.
Damian followed the sound into what appeared to be the master bedroom. He turned on the light and looked around, but didn't see anything that resembled the missing handset.
"Found it yet?" Tim called from downstairs.
"Almost!" Damian replied. "Page it one more time!"
A couple of seconds later, one more round of beeping could be heard, much closer this time than before. Damian followed the sound into the master bathroom. "There you are," he grumbled as he stepped into the bathroom and flipped the light switch on. There, resting on the immaculately clean and otherwise barren countertop, was the elusive cordless phone.
Then, just as the boy was about to pick up the phone, the innocuous device suddenly began to ring, its volume setting at its highest level. The sudden sound startled Damian badly, and after scolding himself inwardly for being so jumpy, he picked up the phone and glanced at the caller ID screen.
"UNKNOWN CALLER"
The boy frowned, then hit the "Reject" button. That would send the caller directly to voice mail. If it was important, they'd leave Drake a message. Right now they had more important things to worry about.
However, not a second after Damian rejected the incoming call, the phone started ringing again right there in his hand. Not expecting the immediate callback and still edgy from the earlier events of the evening, the boy fumbled the phone for a moment without dropping it. Finally, with a sigh, Damian hit the "Accept" button and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello. Drake residence."
"[He's my big brother.]"
Damian felt a chill race down his spine as chidlish Japanese words tumbled out of the phone receiver.
"[You're in the way.]"
Suddenly, the bathroom door shut with an ominous slam that reverberated throughout the entire house.
Tim had been halfway up the stairs when he heard the door slam. He froze on the steps. "Damian?!" he called out.
Immediately, he heard the sound of someone banging on a door upstairs. "Drake! Drake, get me out of here!" Damian yelled.
Without a moment's hesitation, Tim raced to his bedroom. Immediately, he turned his focus to the closed bathroom door and tried to open it.
"Unlock the door, Damian!"
"It's jammed! I can't!"
Immediately Tim looked for the hinges, then cursed when he realized the door opened inward. "You'll need to take the hinges off the door from your side!"
"I left my belt downstairs!"
"Then improvise!" Tim snapped. "Use one of your boot daggers!"
"How do you know about those? Father doesn't even know about those!"
Tim rolled his eyes. "Please. You've only tried to kill and/or maim me how many times? You think I'm NOT gonna keep track of how many deadly weapons you keep on you? And seriously... do you honestly think Bruce doesn't know?"
From the other side of the door, Damian offered no snarky comeback. Instead, Tim listened as he heard the sound of a strong metal blade being used to try and pry the pins out of the hinges. The older teenager glanced at the open bedroom door. Their belts were downstairs. If worst came to worse, he an explosive charge from them to blow the door.
His thoughts were interrupted by sound of loud explosive pops from inside the bathroom, followed immediately by the sound of rushing water and a startled cry of alarm. "Damian! What's happened?!"
"The faucets! The pipes! They've burst!" Damian shouted, unable to mask the alarm in his voice. "The bathroom's filling with water!"
Looking down, Tim could see the carpeting in front of the bathroom door turning dark and soggy from the water seeping under it. "Shit!" Tim cursed. "Keep working on the hinges! I'm going for the belts!"
"Hurry!" Damian yelled.
Turning quickly, he rushed to leave the bedroom, only to be knocked flat on his back when the bedroom door was suddenly slammed shut on him. Tim sat up slowly, gingerly holding his aching head before staring at the closed door in alarm. "No," he murmured before getting to his feet and trying to open the door. "No!" he repeated when the handle refused to budge. Desperately, he tried both driving his shoulder against the door and kicking it, but neither made a dent. He raked his fingers through his hair, gripping his black locks so tightly that it hurt. The door he was now trapped behind opened outward, which meant the hinges were on the other side. Then his eyes widened. He raced to his bed, reached under one of the massive pillows, and pulled out one of several throwing daggers he kept underneath it. Then he went to work dismantling the knob of the bedroom door himself. Tim managed to get the doorknob almost completely dismantled when he was suddenly plunged into darkness.
All the lights in the bedroom went out, and Tim froze. He glanced back to the bathroom door and saw no light from the gap in the top of the door either. Additionally, the sound of rushing water had stopped as well.
It was far too quiet.
"Damian?" Tim went to the bathroom door, his boots squelching as he walked over the soaked carpet. "Damian can you hear me?"
"Yeah." The boy's voice sounded raspy and breathless.
"What's going on? What's your status?"
Tim heard the sound of sloshing water, far higher than he would've expected behind the door. "T-t-totally d-d-dark," Damian stammered through what sounded like chattering teeth. "Water's up t-t-to my sh-shoulders." Tim pressed his hands against the door, estimating Damian's height and trying to determine how much water was in there. He swallowed hard. Even if the boy had managed to get the hinges off, the water pressure alone would hold the door firmly in place. Even working together, Tim wasn't certain if they'd be able to force the bathroom door open. Even more troubling was the temperature of the door beneath his fingers.
"D-d-drake..." Damian stammered. "It's c-c-cold. T-t-too-"
"I know," Tim tried to reassure the boy. "Save your breath and your energy. One way or another, I'm getting you out."
Then he heard a startled gasp, more sloshing water, and a thump that Tim could only assume was Damian forcing his back against the door. "What's wrong?!"
Damian's whispered voice sounded nervous and small. For the first time Tim could ever recall hearing, he sounded like a frightened ten-year old boy. "Something b-b-brushed my leg. Something's in the w-w-water."
"Stay calm, Damian," Tim ordered firmly as he heard the panic rising in his younger brother's voice.
"Can't see. I can't see-"
"Don't panic!"
"Where is it? Where-"
Suddenly, Damian's voice rose in volume and pitch as he screamed in alarm before the sound of wildly splashing water drowned that out completely! The sounds sent a spike of terror through Tim's veins, and he banged against the bathroom door.
"Damian! DAMIAN!" he cried out as he struggled futilely against the door. But it was no use. Almost as if taunting him, he could feel the door handle twist easily in his grip, but when he tried to push it inward, he could feel the full weight of the water working against him. The wet carpet didn't help matters either, as his boots got no purchase and slipped constantly beneath him as he tried to put his own weight against the door.
When the sound of splashing finally stopped, and an unsettling calm settled over the bathroom, Tim called for his brother again. "Damian! Damian, can you hear me?! Say something!"
Silence was his only response.
Tim felt his eyes begin to sting and his vision blur. His face wanted to settle into something grief-stricken, but he forced it to twist into something angrier. "[I know you're here!]" Tim yelled out into the darkness. "[Show yourself, little sister!]"
He heard the sound of the wet carpet squelching behind him. Tim slowly turned his head to see the little Japanese girl meekly approaching him. She had a very human looking appearance, resembling what Damian had seen earlier that morning.
"[You're mad at me?]"
"[Yes, I'm mad! Let him go! Bring him back!]"
"[He's in the way! He's hurt big brother! You said so! He'll take you away from me!]" Tears filled the ghost girl's deep dark eyes. "[He'll take you away, just like Daddy took Mommy, and I'll be alone again! I don't want to be alone anymore!]" The little ghost... the little child... buried her face in her hands and curled in her herself, sobbing.
Tim felt a stab of guilt at upsetting this poor girl's spirit. No matter what she'd done, at the heart of everything was the fact that she was just a small child who'd had her life ended in a violent and torturous fashion. He cast one last look at the bathroom door before bowing his head. Then he sighed and knelt down before the child. He reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She raised her eyes to him curiously.
"[If I go with you... Will you promise to let my little brother go?]" The teenager's voice was heavy with resignation. "[If I go with you to heaven... Will you promise not to hurt him anymore?]"
The child's whole face seemed to light up with delight. She smiled brightly and moved forward to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "[Yes! I promise! Thank you! I knew you were a good big brother!]"
A minute later, the door to the bathroom forcibly burst open. The door itself fell flat onto the carpet as hundreds of gallons of ice cold water flooded into the bedroom, carrying with it a boy's small unconscious body. He lay still for about a minute in an inch of standing water. Then Damian began to cough, spitting up water as he struggled to breathe. It took several tries, but he finally managed to prop himself up on trembling arms. He looked about himself in bewilderment, as if not quite realizing where he was.
"The bedroom?" Damian muttered when he finally got his bearings. Then he glanced at the now empty bathroom and shuddered. "Was it just a dream? A nightmare?"
As he tried to push himself into a sitting position, he winced. His hands hurt. Lifting them up to a sliver of moonlight cutting into the room, his eyes went wide and frightened as he saw the state of his hands.
They were red and raw. His fingertips especially were scraped up to hell, and he both could see and feel a large amount of algae and stone grit trapped beneath his nails.
Damian felt his stomach twist, and he couldn't help but empty the contents of his stomach right there on the floor. Once that was done, and he felt a little steadier, he looked around.
Something was wrong.
Someone was missing.
"Drake?" He said, his voice hoarse from from having just thrown up. "Drake? Where are you?"
As he gave the bedroom one final sweep with his eyes, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted a familiar form lying motionless on the floor.
"No," Damian murmured. Unsteadily, he hurried over to Tim's side. "Drake!" Immediately he felt for a pulse, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when he felt it, before he realized how weak and thready it was. Timothy's breathing was also far too shallow.
"Drake! Drake, wake up!" Damian said as he tried to shake Tim awake in desperation. Then a thought struck him and he looked from his brother to the bathroom. The boy's hands trembled even as he shook his brother harder. "What did you do?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
